User blog:Jason n Kitty Trash 1
hello friends it is i your favorite soft drink, soda anyways since i am back on here now that the storm clouds are gone, i figured i'd post this garbage that i love. kitty isn't mind she belongs to the wonderful cici/hypocriticalnaivete in case u were wondering that little black book is where jason writes his hook ups because hes LITERAL HUMAN TRASH ---- “Jason,” Kitty screamed, jumping off the rollercoaster and running to his open arms, jumping up and wrapping her legs around his waist. He held onto her, smiling, a genuine one despite himself. “You gotta go on that ride. You’ll love it, I swear. I’ll even wait in line again with you,” she offered, giving him a tiny little grin. “That’s thoughtful of you,” he replied, putting her down, a little bit self conscious of the display of affection. He glanced around, unsure of himself. He wasn’t supposed to do stuff like that. The closest Jason Griffith ever got to P.D.A. was sexual acts in public places. He didn’t just hug girls and pick them up. Regardless, he couldn’t help but to allow his expression to melt into a smile when his eyes found hers again. Determined to fight it he straightened, wrapping the obligatory arm around her hips, hand resting on her butt (everyone had to knew she was his property), leading her off to the food stands. “Maybe later, sweetheart. I’m starved,” he replied, keeping his voice cool, calm. He tried to ignore the slightly accelerated pulse in his chest. What the fuck was he doing? The hot dog stand was relatively clear for once, most likely seeing as most people preferred to eat after the rides, or not at all at the carnival. Jason still remembered his first time visiting with Edgar, an unexpected health nut, and listening to the attendant shrug and dance around the subject of what the sausages were made out of. The meat was smoky and unfamiliar, and might just damn be a domesticated animal, but it had a sort of comfort to the shittiness of it and it reminded Jason of the crap he and Gavin ate when Gavin was visiting anyway since neither of them knew how to cook. Kitty scrunched her nose at the smell, giving him a tiny smile. “You go ahead, okay? I’m gonna go look at the prize tent. See what you can win me,” she teased, her tone comfortable, but he could still hear the slight hesitation. It’d been months of… whatever this was, yet she still sounded so unsure when she teased him in such a way. He wondered if it had to do with him not asking her to date him. “Right,” he replied, deciding for his sake not to elaborate on it. She gave him a tight smile--there was that hesitation again--before heading off. He could tell by the way she ducked her head as she did that she was smiling at her feet, or scolding herself. Probably both. He took the moment alone to yell at himself. He didn’t know what the shit was going on with him; all these stupid hugs, smiles, little tiny giggles? Jason didn’t giggle. And just what the hell was going on with his heartrate? Since when did it accelerate over a girl? This wouldn’t do. He couldn’t just have himself losing it over a crush. He thought it over as he muttered his order to the attendant and slapped down a five dollar bill, not even counting his change, instead simply shoving it into his back pocket. He took the hot dog from the man, and, taking a messy bite from it, decided he’d walk into the prize tent--face full of hot dog, casual--and tell her he was gonna take off because someone had texted him. Christy, maybe. It didn’t matter. He just had to let her know that this wasn’t happening. They were not us. There was no we with Jason. There was only Jason and the empty slot in his bed for the night. Nothing more. He swaggered into the prize tent, his plan all but evaporating the moment he saw her, thin arms crossed over her chest, staring intently at something. Swallowing, he ate the rest of the shitty carnival hot dog in a few bites, stupidly unsure of what else to do but stand there like an idiot, ketchup and mustard staining his face. It was at this moment that Kitty decided to look up, breaking into an easy laugh when she saw him. “You missed your mouth?” she taunted, pulling a napkin out of her purse and strolling over to him. She placed a hand on his cheek (god her hands were so fuckin’ soft) and with the other wiped his mouth clean, him staring blankly at her with his mouth slightly ajar. “What’d you pick out?” he heard himself ask, and he could’ve kicked himself. No, stupid. You were supposed to ditch her. Now what the fuck? Kitty bit the inside of her cheek, looking away. “It’s kind of dumb. You’re gonna laugh at me,” she mumbled, the teasing gone from her voice. He hated himself for caring, but she genuinely was concerned about how he’d react. You gotta be kidding me. “I swear I won’t. Promise. Cross my heart,” he heard his voice say again. No, stupid! “I want a bear…” He blinked. A bear? Christ. A very small, delicate sigh of relief exited his lungs. If she just wanted a stupid bear, that meant she was just like any other Bullworth chick. These girls were so easy if you gave them a goddamn stuffed bear. The shits were overstuffed, overly cuddly, and decorated with a dollar store bow, but for some fuckin’ reason giving a girl one was the equivalent of popping her legs open. “Like… like the ones with the bows?” he asked, already starting to feel like himself again. Maybe this was fine. He’d bed her and leave in the morning, just like every girl before her. In all honesty, he was relieved that was the end of it, and the short-lived romance could be resolved so simply. He wasn’t about to deal with that bullshi-- “No, like this one? I know it’s kinda ratty and stuff, but it’s cute. I mean, just ‘cause he looks like he’s been roughed up doesn’t mean he shouldn’t get any love,” she said in her gentle voice, stopping his heart for a second. He followed where she pointed, eyeing what was indeed a ratty and roughed up looking bear. Anyone would ignore it; it was simply a damaged good that the salesmen were trying to get rid of. Better to sell it for a cheap buck than throw away any bit of the inventory, right? And it was stupid but it changed everything. It reversed all of what he’d thought moments ago, with the stupid overstuffed bears, and made him fall deeper so. And even though he wanted to just laugh, shrug, and leave--even if he didn’t meet with another girl, just get out of here--the bigger drive was to win her the fucking thing. Just get it for her and see her stupid goddamn smile and maybe get another dumb fuckin’ hug or whatever. “C’mon,” he muttered, grabbing her by the hand and pulling her out, harsh enough that she kept up with his pace, but careful enough so as to not hurt her. He led her to the only game he knew he’d always win--High Striker. A win paid three tickets and the bear was only two; shit you could find on the ground if you looked hard enough, but he wanted to show off. He raised an eyebrow upon arriving, finding it manned by someone who wasn’t Crystal, the woman who smelled like cigarettes and always going on about astrology that he’d maybe tried to hook up with a couple times while drunk. She’d always resisted him, though, and he found himself admiring her for it a little. Today instead stood a slim man, creepy by all standards, crossing his arms over a dirty gray T-shirt. “I want a swing,” he barked at the carny, instantly put off by the way he’d eyed Kitty. That was his property, goddammit. The carny, endlessly careless, rolled his eyes and handed Jason the hammer. “Hit the top, you get three,” he muttered, carrying on with his inappropriate staring. Self conscious, Kitty took a step behind Jason, allowing his body to shield her from the man a little, still minding her distance so he could swing the wooden hammer. He couldn’t help but grin a little at this. She wanted him to protect her. “Glad your weak woman’s gotta hide behind you?” the carny sneered, earning a quick flip of the bird by Jason. He didn’t have time for this bullshit. He was about to be a shitty ass bear-winning hero. As dramatically as possible, Jason swung the hammer, bringing it down with all his strength. Naturally, he was shocked when the puck barely budged. “Tough luck. No tickets. Why don’t you go play something a little bit easier? I’ll take care of your girl,” the carny offered, walking around Jason towards Kitty. He tensed at that, straightening up. “Your shit’s rigged,” he muttered, eyes darkening. “We’re out of here, loser,” he added, taking Kitty by the hand and starting to drag her away. He’d buy the fuckin’ bear if he needed to, goddamn it. “How about she stays here?” the carny shot back, throwing his hand out and wrapping his fingers around her wrist. Instantly Jason turned, socking the guy in the jaw, a shock of pain flying into his knuckles and throughout his entire arm ceasing only at his shoulder. “Hey! Is that a Bullworth kid?!” Oh shit. Jason’s mood instantly shifted from angry to panicked as he saw a cop’s interest peak, and within moments he was bolting off and away from the cop, Kitty unfortunately ragdolling behind him as she tried to keep up with his pace. Still they managed to make it out of the gates, long lost in the crowd, and they stood in the parking lot of the carnival with their hands on their knees and their chests heaving. He could only feel grateful that the cop hadn’t kept up. But she still didn’t have the stupid bear. “Sorry,” he panted, straightening, “he pissed me off.” Kitty offered a small smile, but her eyes were wide. He knew he’d scared her, and he wanted to kick himself for it. “It’s okay,” she whispered. “You didn’t get your bear.” “It doesn’t matter, Jason.” “Wait here.” She watched as he glanced over the gate, eyes trailing after the officer who’d since retreated to monitoring the crowds, before jumping it and running off again. The exclamations of surprise from the carnival’s visitors were enough to rally the officer’s attention again, but Jason was too fast for him this time and managed to slip into the prize tent within seconds. Waiting, it wasn’t long before Jason reappeared, his eyes wild and frantic, clutching the bear from the display case. He ran off, jumping the gate again, and grabbed a bike from the rack whose owner had neglected to put a lock on. “We gotta run for real now,” he explained to her, thrusting the bear into her grip and getting on the bike, allowing her to sit on the handlebars before peddling away furiously. He felt ridiculous riding a bike like some ten year old kid, at that one decorated with Grottos & Gremlins stickers, but she had the stuffed animal and that was all that mattered, he supposed. “I still can’t believe you did that.” The dim sunlight coming in from the window of Jason’s bedroom in the Griffith townhouse in New Coventry bounced off her eyes, giving them a charming sparkle. They’d spent the night in hiding, he’d said, even though the carnival staff probably didn’t really give a shit about a missing two ticket item. If anything, he’d probably done them a favor. “Said I’d get it for you,” he muttered, sitting up and grabbing at his jeans, pulling them on. “I’m gonna grab some burgers or some shit. Wait here,” he commanded, determined to keep the warmth out of his voice. But Jason hadn’t ever gotten one of his hookups breakfast before. She laughed quietly, watching as he left the room, before studying it. It was a mess, sure, but it held his personality relatively well. The walls were covered in posters, some overlapping others as his music tastes changed from when he was younger. Broken guitars lay against the walls, some smaller ones intact from when he’d just started playing, his favorite one sat atop of the otherwise empty desk. The only thing to truly catch her eye was the black leatherbound book sitting on his nightstand. Other than it, there were no signs of literature anywhere in his bedroom. Reaching for it, she discovered it to be a notebook. Maybe she’d leave him a note. 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